Writing as Armie Eros Fletcher
whatholdsstill.substack.com
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
New from What Holds Still:
Still Trusted
What a raised credit limit reveals about absence, risk, and narrative.
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/still-trus...
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
New from What Holds Still:
Still Trusted
What a raised credit limit reveals about absence, risk, and narrative.
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/still-trus...
🔗 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/highest-an...
🔗 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/highest-an...
“The Four-Leaf Clover and the Art of Seeing” ⬇️
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/the-four-l...
“The Four-Leaf Clover and the Art of Seeing” ⬇️
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/the-four-l...
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/coughing-i...
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/coughing-i...
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/how-do-you...
#Ghosts #Recognition #Identity
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/how-do-you...
#Ghosts #Recognition #Identity
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/breaking-n...
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/breaking-n...
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/the-consen...
whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/the-consen...
Read here:
👉 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/rolling-aw...
#HealingJourney #PersonalGrowth #Vulnerability #Easter #Resurrection
Read here:
👉 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/rolling-aw...
#HealingJourney #PersonalGrowth #Vulnerability #Easter #Resurrection
Not to stay awake—
but to fall asleep.
It started as a way to calm my body.
It became a poem.
What Happens at Night
🔗 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/what-happe...
Not to stay awake—
but to fall asleep.
It started as a way to calm my body.
It became a poem.
What Happens at Night
🔗 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/what-happe...
Not an essay. Not a take.
Just something I wrote to stay awake.
It’s called What Happens at Night.
It’s about panic, memory, rhythm—and the body trying to survive its own knowing.
Not an essay. Not a take.
Just something I wrote to stay awake.
It’s called What Happens at Night.
It’s about panic, memory, rhythm—and the body trying to survive its own knowing.
It started as a conversation.
It became a question about power, softness, and the kind of critique we’re taught not to voice.
Beautiful, Billionaire-Adjacent and Above Critique
🔗 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/beautiful-...
It started as a conversation.
It became a question about power, softness, and the kind of critique we’re taught not to voice.
Beautiful, Billionaire-Adjacent and Above Critique
🔗 whatholdsstill.substack.com/p/beautiful-...
It’s comfort—ours, not theirs.
And critique doesn’t have to be cruelty.
It’s comfort—ours, not theirs.
And critique doesn’t have to be cruelty.
Because I’m a man.
Because critique feels risky.
Because we’ve been taught that political caution is a kind of virtue.
Because I’m a man.
Because critique feels risky.
Because we’ve been taught that political caution is a kind of virtue.
She’s not the subject of the essay.
But she’s the shape of the question.
She’s not the subject of the essay.
But she’s the shape of the question.
We call her out of touch.
We don’t call her complicit.
We call her out of touch.
We don’t call her complicit.